


sometimes trouble needs me

by Maculategiraffe



Category: Slave Breakers - maculategiraffe
Genre: Age Difference, Dubious Consent, I apologize if I'm rusty, M/M, due to slavery, it's been so long since I wrote these guys, they're both slaves but one outranks the other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-08 16:54:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13462491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maculategiraffe/pseuds/Maculategiraffe
Summary: (Holy crap, it's surreal and amazing to see my work and characters pop up on autocomplete here)My first Slave Breakers in lo these many years, folks!  The bidder's request:I'd like to see the scene between Bran and Yves suggested by this line from one of your one-shots:"Yves suspected that Holden was nearing the end of his tolerance for Bran's clingy behavior, though; he'd been meaning to get the kid alone, if possible, and try to reassure him. And possibly, albeit gently, fuck him."Accordingly, this takes place chronologically between the last two chapters of "Bran."





	sometimes trouble needs me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [racheltheravenclaw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/racheltheravenclaw/gifts).



> Title taken from [The Weepies, "No Trouble"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sNh49WmPCAI)

Yves had spent a long time and a lot of carefully calculated action on achieving a functional household peace, and a solid mutual understanding and respect, between Holden, Alix, Greta, and himself; now that the first shocks were over, and a new equilibrium was going to need to be reached, Yves was calculating again.

(Not entirely resentfully. He did enjoy a challenge. Otherwise, he supposed, he and Holden wouldn't get along so well.)

The facts to bear in mind, vis-a-vis the recent upheaval in his living situation, were:

A, Yves wasn't in danger of being replaced in his master's affections. Holden's time and attention were limited commodities, so there'd be less of those things for Yves now, but Holden's _love_ for Yves hadn't been redirected to anyone else, and wouldn't be. Love didn't work that way.

B, Jer had a lot of complicated issues, most of which were, fortunately, Holden's problem, not Yves' or anyone else's in the household; Jer, in fact, seemed pretty well-disposed towards Yves, considering.

C, Bran was either a manipulative mastermind on a level so far above Yves that Yves had no hope of outwitting him, which seemed unlikely on the face of it and unnecessary to factor into calculations either way, or else he was just a genuinely sweet kid who loved Holden an absolutely stupid amount, which Yves couldn't really blame him for, considering that so did he.

D, Holden was a complete idiot with no concept of how either logistics or boundaries worked, which meant it was up to Yves to regulate his ridiculous affairs for him, if everything wasn't going to descend into complete chaos of the kind that had reigned around here before Yves had taken charge. 

Right now Jer was taking up a large proportion of Holden's limited time and attention, which was reasonable considering the complicated issues (see B, above) and almost certainly temporary, but it meant that Bran being in this needy state where he tagged after Holden as if the rest of them might suddenly bare teeth and devour him alive was unsustainable.

So Yves waited until a bedtime when Holden was with Jer and Alix with Greta, and went to Bran's room. The door was closed; he knocked softly, and waited.

After a few moments, the doorknob turned, and Bran opened the door, and stood still, looking at Yves.

He was naked-- probably he'd been in bed already-- and, picked out in chiaroscuro by the moonlight slanting in from the window, just impossibly gorgeous. Perfect, the way your body was perfect only when you were much too young to appreciate it. There were other kinds of beauty, of course, later, that the young could grow into as they outgrew their youth-- Holden's fire and compassion, Jer's steady strength, Alix's wisdom and gentleness, Greta's motherly softness, had all shaped their faces in ways that were lovely to see. But the bloom of youth on Bran, the smoothness of his skin, the sheen of his hair, the ease of his bearing despite the anxiety on his face--

Oh, the anxiety there, his eyes searching Yves'. No, no matter how beautiful you looked to anybody else, it was hell to be so young, and so unsure. 

Yves smiled at him, and said, "Hey, Bran. Can I come in?"

Bran hesitated for a moment, meeting his gaze steadily with those odd, light-and-shadow gray eyes, before he said, "You don't have to ask."

"I know," said Yves. "But I am. Asking."

After another moment, Bran smiled, a shy little closed-lipped smile, and said, "Then, yes."

He stepped back, opening the door wider, and Yves came in, and sat down on the foot of the bed. Bran closed the door again, and hesitated, still watching Yves, who said, "Come sit."

Bran obeyed, climbing onto the bed, watching Yves carefully, as if for clues as to what he wanted. He curled up with his back against the headboard, and said nothing. 

"Been wanting to talk to you," said Yves, and Bran tensed visibly. Interesting, that the prospect of being talked to was obviously more alarming to him than the prospect of-- whatever else he thought Yves might have come to his room for. "Nothing bad, kid. I'm not your enemy. That's mostly what I've been wanting to say. You've got no enemies in this house. Not saying you won't be able to make any, if you work at it, but I don't think you want to play that game, and I definitely don't."

Bran was listening intently, watching Yves' face, saying nothing.

Yves said, "So try to relax a little bit, yeah? And stop following the master around all the time like he's your only hope. It's going to start stressing him out, and that's not good for anybody. You, either. Let go a little. Make yourself at home."

When Yves paused, leaving a space for Bran to answer, he didn't, at first. 

Then he said, slowly, "You aren't-- angry with me?"

"For moving in?" Yves shrugged. "Look, it's not like I can blame you. I love him, too, you know. And I love it here. If I were you--" He hesitated, and then said, honestly, "I'm still kind of pissed at _him_ , because he's old enough to know better. But that's not your problem, and I'm not going to be the one to make it your problem. You and me don't have a problem. I just wanted you to know that."

Bran nodded, and said, after another moment, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," said Yves. "I'll go now, if you want. Let you sleep."

(He was really having trouble reading Bran, and he didn't want to push too hard, be overbearing, lean on his privilege. That wasn't the point of this particular conversation.)

"Do you want to go?" Bran asked, sounding-- possibly-- a little hurt.

Yves grinned at him, making it playful when he answered, "I mean. Not if you'll be lonely without me."

"Do you want me?" Bran asked, uncurling, stretching out his legs and opening his arms as if to display his body, offer it up in case it might possibly be of some slight interest. Sweet Sif of Asgard.

"Yep," said Yves.

Bran smiled that shy little smile again, and Yves pulled off his own tunic in one quick motion, tossed it aside, and moved in.

 

………………………….

Bran was oddly passive in his arms, but not in the paralyzed, terrified way he'd been (at first, anyway) when Holden had shared him with Yves for the first time. He didn't go limp, or freeze up; he shifted and sighed against Yves, whimpering softly when Yves clasped him close, moaning when Yves kissed his neck, but he didn't try to kiss or touch back, didn't even reach out to hold onto Yves. It was as if he gave over his body to whatever Yves wanted, without abandoning it; he was completely vulnerable, completely obedient, and completely _present._ He cried out when Yves lapped at his nipple, trembled when Yves' fingers wrapped around his hardening cock, arched against Yves, without pulling away from his touch. 

(Was this what Holden found so irresistible, so impossible to give up? He'd always encouraged Yves to be active in bed, praised his wicked imagination, his lively tongue, in more ways than one. Was this what Bran gave him that Yves didn't, this melting surrender, these quiet cries and shivers of helpless _response?_

No, no, Yves wasn't going to think that way, he'd already decided that, that nobody was going to benefit from a what-does-he-have-that-I-don't mentality. 

Especially when what Bran did have was something Yves got to have, too. This lovely, shivering body, in his arms, under his hands and his mouth.)

He wrapped his mouth around Bran’s cock, modulated rhythm and pressure to account for Bran’s youth and enthusiasm, to make sure he didn’t come before Yves wanted him to; Yves was having much too much fun with him all worked up like this. Bran groaned when Yves pulled away from his cock, but didn’t otherwise protest, and when Yves drew Bran’s head gently towards his own groin, Bran dove down on his cock as if he’d been starved for it.

He sucked until Yves came, swallowed easily, and then laughed a little as Yves pulled him back up; Yves’ orgasm seemed to have made him more confident, happier, and he smiled radiantly up into Yves’ face before Yves went back down to finish him off. 

After he came-- it took less than a minute after Yves actually started trying-- Yves gathered him up, pulled him close, and kissed him on the mouth. Bran kissed back languidly, and smiled up at Yves, his eyes heavy-lidded and slightly unfocused.

“Thank you,” he said hoarsely.

Yves laughed. "My pleasure."

"I mean--" Bran leaned his head on Yves' arm, staring up at him with a look that made Yves empathize, suddenly, with this particular aspect of Holden's stupidity. "For being nice to me."

Yves kissed him again, lightly, on the lips. "Not regretting it yet."

Bran rolled a little against him, reaching for him, not quite clinging. 

“Stay with me?” he said, then, the uptilt of the last word a little clumsy and late, as if he’d lost countenance at the last moment, tried to make it more clearly a request rather than an instruction. "I mean-- Master's with Jer, so if you want to-- k-keep me company?"

"You flirting with me?" Yves teased, and Bran turned his head, slightly, against Yves' arm, as if to hide his face. 

Well, if he _was_ an evil manipulator, Yves had already lost. Might as well enjoy the ride.

“Yeah, OK,” said Yves. “If you insist.”

So maybe equilibrium was overrated.


End file.
